


Wound

by audreyslove



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 00:41:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14759342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreyslove/pseuds/audreyslove
Summary: Missing Year OQ fic based on prompts: kiss for comfort, kiss where it hurts, kiss to shut them up, passionate kiss





	Wound

He’s deliberately disobeyed orders, and she’s furious.

She did her best to deny him the right to do this scouting mission without making it seem like she cared about him specifically.  She set the rules with him in mind, but they were good rules nonetheless: No one with family, no one with children, was to leave the castle walls.  

The Charmings had protested immediately, which did not surprise Regina one bit.

“You’re the rulers, you are running things. You _have_ to stay here,” Regina argued.  But it was all fruitless catering.  Everyone knows she is running things, so when Snow raised a skeptical eyebrow at her attempt, Regina did not even argue the point.  “You are _pregnant,_ Snow White.” Regina had retorted, “You’re not the little wiley bandit you once were.  You are slow. You are uncoordinated and queasy. You _waddle._  You’re a liability to others.  Insisting that you go is selfish.”

It isn’t entirely true.  Snow is newly pregnant, and other than morning sickness, she hadn’t much changed.  Still, the words had cut at the princess, had her looking positively gutted but unable to argue.

And of course, Charming would never leave her, so he did not protest, did not try to get Regina to make an exception for him.

She had expected to hear from the thief.  She had expected he would argue that Roland was well cared for any number of his uncles, and that Robin was useful, that he knew the forest inside and out.

But he never said a word to her.  He didn’t fight her stance, not one bit.

The night before the scouting mission he had found her in the kitchen, by accident, or not quite so.  Because he knows she likes to go here sometimes, late at night. And he’s so often ran into her here it can’t be a coincidence anymore.

Robin blames his appetite, says he cannot sleep through the night without a bit to eat.  But Regina has her doubts. And while she first wondered if he was trying to steal some of the drink, or the more decadent treats for him and his men, it seems more likely that he is here because of her.

She often skips the large meals in the dining hall nearly every night, and she thinks Snow has only allowed it because she’s aware of her midnight trips to the kitchen.  But there are other reasons why she comes here, why the smell of home cooked meals soothes her, reminds her of when she manned a more modern, civilized kitchen. For all her son’s complaints, he never could complain about her culinary skills.  So perhaps that’s why the room reminds her so much of Henry And really, she doesn’t eat much -- or wouldn’t, if a certain thief wasn’t always raiding the pantry for giant sandwiches he insists she take a bite of, if he wasn’t insisting on cooking her breakfast at two-thirty in the morning.  The pantry is locked up tightly at night, but locks have never prevented Regina from going where she pleases, and it seems Robin is similarly unhindered.

She should have known, that particular night, that restless evening, that he was planning on defying her orders.

_“So, we set off tomorrow,” Regina murmurs as Robin makes himself a plate of leftovers.  She’s feeling him out, testing his reaction. Is he angry he won’t be able to join his men?_

_"You do.  You and countless other men and women who are considered expendable because they don’t have spouses or children.”  He spits it out coldly, and then softens a bit when Regina starts to protest. “I know, Regina. I know you’re thinking of what’s best for the children. But I’m always with my men on battles like this.  It’s not easy to let them go at it alone, when I’ve always been beside them.”_

_“They aren’t children.  They will manage,” Regina grouses, frowning as he sets a plate of food in front her.  He’s got this incessant need to feed her that she finds rather obnoxious. Still, the food smells tempting, and she hasn’t eaten yet today..._

_“I know they will,” he concedes, a thin smile on his lips.  “They will have you.”_

It was a giveaway, looking back, how he never argued with her, never fought for his place on the mission.  She should have known.

“ _And Roland will have you,” she reminds, smiling thinking of the mop headed boy who bounds around the castle.  There aren’t many young children, not many his age. And he’s quickly become the castle’s pet, everyone enjoying his whimsical games, his active imagination._

_“Roland has everyone.” Robin reminds.  “The boy is well cared for here. He wants for nothing.  I dare say I think he’ll be spoiled if I’m not careful.”_

_“Good.” Regina replies with a shrug of her shoulders.  “He could use a bit of spoiling. If I could do it again, with Henry, I would have...” she trails off, biting her lip to keep herself grounded.  To keep the tears from coming._

_“I bet you spoiled him plenty,” Robin retorts, digging into a generous piece of bread._

_Everyone walks on eggshells when it comes to Henry.  They look at her with such pity ans change the subject.  It’s not comfortable, seeing the great and terrible Evil Queen mourning the loss of a child._

_But Robin, he’s so bold about it, the subject never scares him.  He never fears it, never tries to change the subject. And Regina isn’t quite sure how he always know that deep down inside she wants to talk about it, wants to talk about Henry._

_“I was rather.... strict.  And stern with him. I... made a lot of mistakes.  Was harsher than I need have been.”_

_“Oh what parent can say they never had moments like that?” Robin asks.  “Would you like to know my worst moment as a father?”_

_Regina could never picture Robin as anything but a perfect father, the way he interacts with Roland is so... loving.  He has patience, seemingly no temper, and he’s just...._

_She needs to stop thinking of him as so perfect._

_“Was it perhaps when you abandoned him to go on some ill-advised heist?” Regina asks, trying to sound disinterested, but it doesn’t quite land.  He knows she wants to know._

_“No.  My heists are always well advised.” The bastard winks, and she has to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep from showing her amusement._

_He continues then, with a forelonged look.  “It was.... well, when your biggest fear comes to life, sometimes you short circuit, you know?  Once Roland ran off into the forest without me. I was terrified. The entire camp searched for him.  I thought I lost him, thought I lost the most precious gift I’ve been given. It didn’t take long to find him.  He was laughing and playing down by the creek, completely unaware there was a search party for him. I shook him and screamed in his face, then gave him a spanking I pray he will forget.  He was not yet four years old, Regina. I hit my son and screamed in his face. He had no idea what had happened, he cried for so hard, and for so long. And after he way I treated him, he still ran into my arms for comfort.  He’s such a good son. And I’m some father, huh?”_

_But she relates, oh how she relates, when you fear you might lose your child, your mind stops, and you can do terrible things._

_“He went into your arms,” she repeats.  “He wasn’t afraid of you. You had a weak moment, but even Roland knew it didn’t make you a bad father.”_

_Robin shrugs,and then he’s off to do what he sometimes does with her.  He carefully picks open the lock to the cabinet that holds the pitchers of meade, and pours two generous glasses.  He slides one back to her._

_“My greatest fear was Henry thinking of me as a monster.  And there were many... regrettable things I did to prevent him from finding out who I really was.”  Tears are pricking at the back of her eyes, but she keeps them at bay by sheer willpower. “I’m paying for it now.  It’s justice. It’s right that I’ve lost him.”_

_“No.”  Robin shakes his head.  “The princess speaks very highly of your relationship with your son. And no good mother deserves to be separated from your son.  But I can’t believe it will be permanent.”_

_“I can’t hope for that,” she admits._

_He reaches out for her hand, molds his palm against it, squeezing tightly, almost protectively around it._

_“I can do all the hoping then.  And it’s what I hope for you.”_

_“Why do you care about me?” she asks almost reflexively, blushing when she realizes he’s never quite said he has cared.  He could easily deny it, and she’s an idiot for ever thinking...._

_“I have a soft spot for stubborn women and brilliant mothers, I suppose.” Robin shrugs._

_“I’m not a mother.  Not anymore.”_

_“Now you’re just lying to yourself.” Robin says plainly.  She has no words to counter that statement, just looks down at their hands, lets him lace his fingers with hers.  She sighs as the contact becomes more, as he pulls her hand closer to his body, cradling it between two of his own as if it were precious.  “And as for why I care for you, how could I not? From the moment we first met I’ve watched as you risk and sacrifice and lead and care for everyone but yourself.  It’s utterly... well, it’s beautiful, a beauty I could appreciate if it didn’t terrify me so.”_

_She is utterly confused as to why this man who seems to fear nothing would have reason to be afraid of concern for others.  “Terrified?”_

_Robin only holds her hand tighter, eyes going wide as he lifts her hand to kiss it.  “Yes. Because I don’t want to lose you.”_

_He says the words simply, biting his lip almost regretfully as he does.  “I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to hear this, I know this isn’t what we’re all about, but it’s time you know how I feel.”_

_“I’m not yours to lose,” Regina lies, knowing that isn’t quite true.  If it were true, she wouldn’t think about him all the time, worry for him she wouldn’t love every opportunity she has to argue with him, to fight, just for the chance to spend a few more heated moments together._

_She wouldn’t let him touch her like this.  Wouldn’t let him hold her, wouldn’t let him into her bedroom to talk to her when a particular nightmare woke her when he just happened to be passing by._

_“You don’t have to be mine.  Being you is more than enough for me.”_

_He kisses her then, tenderly on the cheek. It shocks her that she lets him do it, that she leans into it, even, drawing comfort from the warmth of his breath._

_“Take care of yourself,” He makes her promise, and she does._

But now she is scathing and angry, for the idiot _deliberately_ disobeyed her.  She’s not sure how she missed him when they set out on the mission, but it’s clear he went on it anyway.  

Now her group is back within the safety of the castle, and they have lost touch with the other side.

And Roland is there, at her side, asking if she knows where his Papa is.

She need only take one look at a regretful John to know the answer.

She’s going to kill him.  If he’s not dead, she’s going to kill him.

She grabs John by the collar and hauls him into her study, where vials and medicines surround every surface.

“Give me an article of clothing.  Something he wears a lot. Something.  Anything.”

When he hands her his cloak, she knows.

“Whose cloak is he wearing?” She asks bitterly.  She can’t believe he disguised himself to keep her from seeing him, how dare he?  John only shrugs.

“He insisted, Your Majesty.  I couldn’t stop him.”

“He doesn’t care for his child  He doesn’t care for the men he leads, he doesn’t care for anyone!” she shouts, as she mixes the locator spell.

“You know that’s not true.”

“I hate him.” She responds, dipping the cloak in the potion.

John raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

She curses his name over and over as they trudge through the forest, following the cloak as it leads the way.

The cloak leads them far off trail, and Regina entertains the delirious thought that perhaps Robin and the rest of the men are just lost, perhaps this isn’t as bad as she fears, perhaps, perhaps.

Oh, if the thief has gotten himself lost in the forest, she will _never_ let him live it down.  She will hold that over him for all eternity.  He will _wish_ he got himself injured, because she will inflict crushing blows to his ego on a daily basis.  She can’t wait, actually.

God, let that be it.

But soon as they reach the clearing she swears she can smell blood in the air.  Her heart is loud in her chest, ears ringing from the steady thumping she swears John can hear.

Men are busy boiling water and soaking rags, another grinding a bunch of herbs into a paste.  These men, the ones who see her, they cannot hold eye contact. They don’t even greet John. And yes, these men are not lost and looking for a path home.  

No one looks too terribly skilled, and it’s only then that Regina realizes the best healers have family and were banned from the mission..

She’s done this.

Her fault.

There are men huddled around something - someone, and though she prays that it’s not him, that he’s just one of the idiots hopelessly hovering over another, when have her prayers ever been answered?

She approaches, Will looking absolutely devastated when he musters. “Your Majesty, we’re so sorry, he just…”

But she waves him off, a flick of her wrists doing more than she intended, her magic sending him sailing off in the air until his back smacks against a tree trunk..

She should apologize.  Should, but won’t, because now she has a more pressing matter to attend to.

She sees Robin, and he state he’s in has her burning with anger.

There’s a fairly massive wound to his gut, and several on his hands, another cut rolling from his hairline and curving around his forehead to the tip of his ear.

There are wet, red rags around him, and god she doesn’t want to know how much blood loss he’s sustains, if she can even, if…

“Regi—“ He can’t finish her name without coughing, wet red splits dotting over his face and others.  Still she thinks he is trying to muster a smile, and it enrages her. She didn’t even think he could be conscious, why on Earth he tried to speak is beyond her. Let alone why he’s _smiling_ right now.

“Shut up,” she says sternly to the patient..  She turns to Alan a Dale. “How did this happen?”

“Wild boar,” Alan explains, “Will, he got careless didn’t hear him approaching.  Robin caught him just in time. He’s handled the beasts just fine in the past, but this one was particular… aggressive. But Robin got him, in the end.” Alan bites his lip and looks at Regina, “Will he…?”

“Leave.  All of you. _Now.”_ Regina commands.  

There are people holding his rounds from bleeding out, applying pressure, so they must be hesitant to obey.  She curls her lips and snarls again _I said go._ , Her hand presses firmly on that stomach wound almost possessively (his wound is deep, very deep, god she hates this).  The men look conflicted, and she really doesn’t want to magic them across the forest, so she gathers what’s left of her pride and confesses, “Listen, I can’t have you around if I’m going to heal him.  I need to concentrate and focus, and with you watching me I’ll just be too…”

Nervous.  Self conscious.  Embarrassed.

“Of course,” Alan says, scratching the back of his neck, “We’ll be nearby, if you need help—“

“If I need help I’ll send for someone competent.  You’ve all made a mess of things. I won’t require your services.   _Leave.”_

She shouldn’t behave like this, she knows they did their best.  They love Robin and would never wish harm on him. They would do everything in their power to help him.

Still, they could have done more if only they were properly trained.

She will have to see that Granny trains them on proper wound care and healing when she returns.  Provided Robin makes it out alive that is. If he doesn’t, she might just burn them all alive, and herself as well.

She waits for them to be out of earshot.  They are watching, she feels their eyes on her, and suddenly she just wants to poof herself and him back to the castle.  But she can’t, his injuries are too serious to risk moving at all. But she can manufacturer a _little_ privacy.

It doesn’t take much work, not at all, to build a strong layer of purple smoke around them.  A forcefield of sorts.

And now she feels so much better.

Robin is half conscious, and he’s behaving almost drunkenly now, the way he smiles that lopsided smile, how he reaches for her, combs his fingers through her hair, as if this were a romantic sweet moment, as if he weren’t a breath away from dying.

“Don’t,” Regina warns, as his hand ghosts over her wrist.  She’s close to tears, and she won’t let these tender touches be the thing that sends her into a sobbing mess.  “And don’t talk either. You will need your strength.”

“Will I?” he says over a whisper, not forceful enough to have him coughing up blood.  She has no idea how he manages to sound flirty when he’s mortally wounded.

“Yes. To defend yourself.  Because you manage to live through this I may nearly _kill_ you.” But there’s no heat to her voice, nothing that makes it sound like a real threat.

“Something to—“ he wheezes then, his body shudders, and she wants to tell him to be still, to stop talking, but he recovers and breaths “look forward to, then.”

She smiles and shakes her head.  It’s not the time to be cheeky.

She inspects the wound as well as she can, studies the blood oozing from it more carefully.  It’s obviously a deep gash, but hopefully it hit no vital organ. If it didn't hit a vital organ, healing isn't as complicated. it’s just re-attaching the veins and arteries, sewing the skin back...

If she had been at all well-versed in healing magic then it would be easy.

“Robin, I am so sorry, I don’t…”. She lets the tears fall, “I don’t know how to fix this.  It’s more than I’ve ever done. The small cuts I can do but…”

“Start with what you know,” he pants, a hand pointing to the sizeable cut on his head.

That’s utter nonsense, and absolutely stupid, head wounds bleed a lot but it’s only a flesh wound, it doesn’t need her magic to heal.

Still, she would like to see his face not covered in blood, and maybe he’s right, maybe a warmup is best…

She holds her hands over him and concentrate  on repairing tissue and sewing wounds up tight.

She tries to concentrate, she does, but her mind is reeling, pain and guilt and fear too strong.  Nothing happens.

“Shit, I—“

He’s the only damn person she likes in this godforsaken place, she thinks of every fight, every talk, every chance he took to comfort her, how she always let him, thinks of his son, how generous he always is with sharing that little boy.

Her heart feels like it’s breaking, it hurts so much.  And she’s so caught up in her feelings she doesn’t notice the wound has healed.

She didn’t have to picture the details of what she was doing, it just happened.

And that’s never been how she healed before, that’s a type of magic driven by emotions she doesn’t have, doesn’t feel, she’s too dark, too...

“That’s it, love,” Robin says.  “See, you got it.”

There’s blood on his face, in his eyes and in his hair, leaking from his mouth,  and it really it shouldn’t bother her right now, but she wants to see his face without all that.  So she wipes it clean with a wave of her hand, magic sparking and shining over him until he looks the way she wants him to - uninjured, handsome and _smug_.  But he’s still bleeding internally, that big wound, that will need to be shut.

She lets her hands wander down to his stomach now, grimaces at the feel of soft rags and torn flesh.  She’s kept pressure on the wound with her magic, but once she releases it, he will bleed out fast.

”It’s alright, Regina,” he whisper.  “S’alright, even if you can’t, I—“

“Shut _up!_ ” she exclaims.  “You stop talking and let me work.  It’s _not_ alright, it’s not alright for Roland, not alright for your men, and certainly not alright for me!”

She removes the rags, the blood flows, too much to see anything in there, she presses around the open wound and tries to stop the blood flow, focuses on knitting everything up, but again…her magic fizzles and pops on her fingertips, but nothing comes out.

Robin’s head falls to the side, and she watches as his eyes roll backwards.

“No!” she exclaims, cursing her useless magic, “No, nonono you do _not_ get to die on me!  Robin, no!”

She focuses on that damned wound, now she needs to create more blood, to put more of the lifesaving liquid into his system, she…

Nothing works.  

She is running out of time.

It’s out of sheer desperation that she tries to recreate the way she’s healed the cut on his face.

It’s painful, thinking of moments that made her heart skip, though she denies ever feeling as light and happy as she had.  It seemed so terribly unfair that she could find this with anyone when she’s in a realm she desperately wishes she could leave.  But it’s happened, that much is certain.

She can’t deny this anymore, so she lets herself relive it, lets herself feel everything.  Every moment, every touch, every whispered word that had more meaning that she let herself believe.  She lets her heart soar.

Magic zings and pops under her skin, and this time it trickles out, and it’s working, but it’s slow.  It doesn’t come out in the steady stream she knows it can. It could, if she weren’t so terrified.

She knows what this is, she’s heard of this type of magic.  She just never thought it was something she could use.

And this thing with Robin is complicated and scary, but she’s never doubted or been afraid of the love for her son.

She thinks of Henry,  when he reached a chubby fist and grabbed her finger, the first smile, the way he clung to her whole body as a toddler, when he yelled for her when he had nightmares, happy moments when he made her valentine’s and mother’s day cards, his sappy sugar-soaked smile for every birthday she gave him, the way he hugged her that final time, when he told her she wasn’t a villain, but his mom.

It’s the thought that Henry would be proud of her now that finishes it, a bright bolt of magic that explodes underneath her palms and has her see nothing but white for seconds.

When she can see again, there is no wound, there’s not even any blood on his skin, just bloodied rags and his torn tunic.

She’s almost afraid to meet his eyes.  His body has been mended, but she’s not sure she was able to heal it in time.  He could still be, it could be over...

“Well that was a bit dramatic back there,” Robin smirks at her.  “You’re going to have to stop making me go to such measures just to get your attention.”

She shoves him away out of instinct, and he winces for a moment as her hands press where his wound used to be.

She is absolutely beside herself with guilt.

Her hands smooth over his skin, looking for some gain trace of a mistake, residual pain, a scar…

“It’s alright, Regina, it doesn’t hurt.”

“I’ll saw the pain in your face,” she mutters, “is it, did I—?”

“You pack quite a punch.  You just knocked the wind out of me.” He goes to sit up but she looks at him sternly, shaking her head, her hand firmly anchored at his hip, holding him in place.

He listens to her this time and lies back with a sigh.  

“I feel just fine.” He reaches for her hand, and she lets him take it.  This time he dots kisses all over, her palm, the back of her hand, the knuckles.

She cannot speak.  If she makes a sound, she might just cry.

“Thank you, Regina.”

“Don’t do that again,” she manages to plea, her voice high and reedy now, she sounds so desperate. So she switches gears, changes this into something more playful.  “You are too reckless and too stupid to go on these missions. I’m banning you from them entirely.”  But she is smiling, nearly laughing now, just so happy they can banter again, they can fight and insult one another.  She can pretend to be annoyed with him again, thank god.

He smirks back, looking entirely enamoured with her, and that’s not the deal, they shouldn’t be doing this.

She pulls up his filthy tunic again, searching his body for more wounds.  Because this can’t be over, this can’t be real, she had to have missed something.  

She heals small scratches, then looks to his bloodied hands and sets to healing the small wounds there.

And while she’s holding his hand in hers, after watching it heal, she cannot help but press kiss after kiss to where each cut, each scratch used to be.

She’s not sure what’s gotten into her.  While he’s kissed her hand a few times and her cheek once, she’s never let her lips touch any part of his skin before.  It’s ridiculous, as close as they are, as much as he’s touched and held her, as much as she’s spent time with his son, with how much they’ve shared, she’s never let this happen.

Robin seems to appreciate the gesture, he’s no longer smiling smugly.  He looks utterly touched. And it would be sweet if she wasn’t still so worried about him.

“Do you feel okay?  Are there other wounds you aren’t telling me about?” she asks, “on your back, your legs, your—“

“Love…” his hand swipes up to wipe away tears she didn’t even know she was shedding.  “Nothing hurts. Though I can’t say I’m capable of feeling pain, at this moment.”

She lets herself take that in, the way he says it, the way his hand caresses her cheek as he looks at her.

“Regina, I—”

“I know,” she interrupts.  She’s not sure what he is about to say, but if the tender tone of his voice, she can only guess it’s something that will make her run, something far too _real._

And she’s not ready to hear that yet, but she’s also not quite able to deny herself any more.  So she closes the distance between them, leans over and finally — finally — lets her lips touch his.

It’s a soft kiss at first, because she doesn’t want to tax him, doesn’t want to overexert him.  But Robin has other plans. He cups the back of her head and pulls her into another kiss, and deepens it, so passionate it takes her breath away.

She doesn’t want it to end, but his men are behind her barrier of smoke, and she can’t properly kiss and touch him like she wants, there’s not enough time.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he says in a breathless whisper.

“Me too,” she admits.

That goofy smile spreads over his face, something she might associate with a lovesick teenager instead of a full grown man.

“We need to get back to the castle,” she whispers to him, stroking his cheek.  “Roland is waiting. And… these circumstances aside,” she smooths her hair, goes a bit prim when she finishes “don’t think for a moment I’ve forgiven you for disobeying me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Robin chuckles.  “I’d expect to be punished. In fact, I’m looking forward to it.”

She hums skeptically and shakes her head.  

“Come on.  Let’s go home.”

They make their way back to the castle together.  And though Regina is resolved to not show any signs of affection in front of the men, she can’t help reaching for Robin’s hand every now and then.

Just to check his pulse, of course.


End file.
